```
It wasn't cruel, nor was it mocking, but there was also not a hint of pity. It just pointed out the reality without any disguise.
"The girls… The Princess will have one less trouble."
"…"
Roland's huddled body trembled.
Minerva.
Minerva de Bourbon.
Charlemagne's princess, and the beloved person closest to Roland's heart.
That name made the cement-like despair crack.
"Min…erva…"
The boy staggered to his feet.
His numb and weak legs moved step by step through the mire, slow as they were, and though he seemed about to collapse at any moment and looked utterly abject. Still, the boy kept moving forward with difficulty.
Perhaps it was purely a biological reaction, or perhaps it was an instinct borne out of the compulsive notion instilled by Sloth, but for Roland at the moment, it was an indispensable redemption, as long as that girl was still there, his hope would not only exist at the far end of the limitless horizon.
